


An Alternate Ending

by The3rdTrumpeteer



Series: Refuge and Remedies [15]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Gen, Violence, this isn't a happy one folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-10-31 11:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17848229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The3rdTrumpeteer/pseuds/The3rdTrumpeteer
Summary: What happens when Jack steps in to defend Crutchie at the square.





	1. Chapter 1

When the police arrive and the newsies scatter, Crutchie finds he cannot escape the Delancey brothers. The ground is hard and unforgiving when Crutchie falls, and his jaw aches from the force of Oscar’s brass-clad fist.

When Snyder appears in Crutchie’s field of vision, the newsie’s world is suddenly nothing but pain. He can feel each blow splinter his very core, and though he curls up and tries to block it out, he quickly finds that it is impossible to escape the agony he’s sure will never stop coursing through his limbs and his back and-

When Crutchie blacks out, it’s only for a brief few seconds, and then he’s thrown back into the world again. His body already feels broken, and he fears he won’t be able to move, won’t be able to even crawl away before the crazed warden kills him with a particularly nasty swing, but then something happens. Crutchie’s eyes are closed, but he hears a grunt, and suddenly the blows stop. There are sounds of a scuffle somewhere near him, and when Crutchie dares to open his eyes just a little, he can see Jack there. Jack, who must be absolutely terrified, facing the man whose very existence has fueled his nightmares for years. Jack, who is trying to grab the crutch away from Snyder. Jack, who is very quickly losing the fight against a man who is just bigger and stronger than him.

When Jack finally lets go of the crutch, unable to pull it from Snyder’s grasp, Snyder grips the wooden stick firmly and strikes at Jack with so much force the newsie crumples immediately from the blow to his temple. Crutchie cries out, tries to sit up, but his efforts are in vain. Oscar is suddenly on top of him, shoving him down, holding his face against the cobblestones until the rough rock rubs his cheek raw. And there’s nothing Crutchie can do but watch as his closest friend, his brother, is dragged toward a police wagon and thrown in. And there’s nothing Crutchie can do when Snyder approaches him and grabs him by the arm, uncaring of the way Crutchie’s shoulder twists until it pops and he screams. A few moments later, and Crutchie is sitting beside a limp Jack in the back of the wagon, trying to breathe through the almost unbearable pain in his destroyed shoulder. He shakes Jack gently with his good hand, but Jack doesn’t move.

When the wagon stops in front of the Refuge, a foreboding building of wood and stone, Jack still isn’t awake, and Crutchie has given up trying to rouse him. He’s afraid for his brother, afraid that his head wound may be too severe, but there’s not much time to think about it before he’s being dragged out of the wagon, thankfully by his good arm, and marched up the stairs of the Refuge. Crutchie’s bad leg refuses to work, and he stumbles with every step. The guard holding him doesn’t care, only pushes him forward, through the front doors and down a dirty hallway, up more stairs, past rooms that no doubt have dozens of kids in them, if Crutchie remembers the stories Jack told him. He realizes that Jack isn’t with him, and he doesn’t know where his brother has been taken. Another hallway, and suddenly Crutchie is standing in an office far nicer than anything he’s seen in a while. His knees buckle, and the guard lets him fall. The carpet, nothing more than a thin rug laid over concrete, provides no cushioning, and Crutchie feels a jolt of pain travel through his knees and up his legs, but he keeps himself from crying out.

When Snyder walks into the office a few minutes later, it’s with a triumphant air. He grabs Crutchie suddenly, hauling him up by the shirt collar and shoving him into a chair that sits facing the ornate wooden desk. Snyder sits on the other side, opens a notebook, and asks Crutchie’s name. Crutchie doesn’t give it, and the guard behind him grabs his bad arm and pulls. Hard. This time Crutchie screams. He stammers out his name, Snyder writes it down, and the guard lets go. Snyder writes a few more things in the notebook beside Crutchie’s name, things Crutchie can’t read because they are upside-down and in scratchy cursive, but also things he assumes aren’t good.

When Snyder finishes writing, he closes the notebook, lays the pen on the desk, and smiles at Crutchie with an expression too tight to be sincere. Then he waves dismissively at the guard, who immediately turns and leaves the office, closing the door behind him with a heavy  _thud!_ Crutchie was afraid of the guard, he’ll admit that, but he’s scared to death of Snyder. He’s already seen--and felt--what the man is capable of, and he doesn’t want to be alone in this office with him. He wants to be with Jack, to know he’s okay or at least safe.

When Snyder stands and grabs Crutchie again, this time tightly around the throat, Crutchie realizes it might be a long while before he sees Jack again.


	2. Chapter 2

When Snyder finishes with him, Crutchie is sure he’s died and gone to hell. The pain from his injured shoulder threatens to burn him alive, but he almost welcomes it because at least it means there’s still something there to save. His bad leg is entirely numb and has been since Snyder stomped on it...Crutchie doesn’t know how many times. His face feels swollen and hot, and there is blood coating the lower half from his broken nose. He tries to pull himself off the floor, but he can’t make his good arm cooperate. It doesn’t matter. Snyder steps over him and opens the door, and the same guard who tormented Crutchie earlier comes back in and hauls him to his feet. Crutchie is unable to stand on his own, and he can do nothing but let the guard drag him through the dirty halls of the Refuge.

When they reach a door at the end of the hall, the guard drops Crutchie to unlock it, uncaring of how roughly the newsie lands on the stone floor and his resulting groan of pain. The guard pulls the door open, grabs Crutchie by the shirt, and shoves him inside. Crutchie lies just inside, struggling to catch his breath and stay awake, and he barely hears the door slam shut and lock again. He doesn’t move for a few minutes, instead opting to curl in on himself and squeeze his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be back on the rooftop, watching the sunrise with Jack... _Jack_.

When Crutchie remembers what happened to his oldest friend, he bolts upright, nearly passing out right there. As it is, blackness encroaches on his vision, and Crutchie fights back a wave of nausea. He looks around the room, which is a small, filthy stone box with too many bunk beds crowded on either side of it. There are boys in each bunk, sometimes two or three crowded onto the stiff mattresses. A few of them stare at Crutchie with malice, some with mild curiosity, but most of them are ignoring him completely. Crutchie sighs and resigns himself to a night on the floor. He can’t get up, no one’s going to help him, and there’s no room, anyway.

When a kid in one of the beds closest to the window gets up and approaches Crutchie, he’s more than a little surprised. The kid says nothing, only holds out his hand. Crutchie takes it and lets the kid pull him up, biting his lip to keep from crying out. It takes a few minutes, but soon the kid lowers Crutchie onto the bunk near the window. Crutchie takes a moment to breathe, quell the nausea that is trying to resurface. There are two other people on the bunk with Crutchie and the kid who helped him: one is a small, sickly-looking boy with dark hair and sunken eyes, and the other-

When Crutchie sees Jack, still bloody and horribly pale but  _alive_ , it is all he can do not to cry with relief. Jack reaches over and hugs him gently, frowning at Crutchie’s broken nose and the way he holds his arm against his chest and winces when his friend makes contact. He asks what happened, and Crutchie says nothing because even thinking about the encounter with Snyder makes his breath quicken, and he can’t stand to even say the man’s name. Jack seems to understand. Crutchie asks if Jack is okay because it’s all he’s been thinking about it since the fight at the square. Jack gives a crooked grin and says he is, that he’s been awake for a few hours. He chuckles and says he’s got a hard head, and he seems so calm and collected that it calms Crutchie down a little, too.

When Jack tells Crutchie that his shoulder needs to be fixed or he might lose it, Crutchie blanches. His shoulder hurts like hell, but the idea of someone pushing it back into place scares him. What if something happens? But he nods, and the kid who helped him get to the bed earlier speaks up. His name is Rusty, and he’s actually popped a shoulder back into place before. That doesn’t reassure Crutchie at all, but he agrees to let Rusty do it.

When Rusty wraps one hand around Crutchie’s bad shoulder and the other around his forearm and  _shoves_ , Crutchie gasps, unprepared. But the pain does lessen, if only a little, and that’s good enough for now. Crutchie relaxes, thanks Rusty, and turns to Jack, who asks him if there’s anything else wrong. Crutchie just shakes his head, unwilling to admit that he still can’t feel his bad leg at all. He doesn’t want to worry Jack, and there’s nothing the other newsie would be able to do about it, anyway. 

When Crutchie asks Jack if he’s seen any of the others, Jack sighs. He hasn’t, and he’s worried about them. Crutchie is, too, but he’s also glad that he and Jack seem to be the only ones of their friends in this wretched place; he doesn’t think he could to see any more of his family hurt.

When the door opens again, Crutchie feels Jack grab his hand and squeeze, and before he can say anything, Snyder is striding into the room, two of his lackeys behind him. Snyder looks straight at Jack, and a sneer spreads across his face. Jack just looks blank, resigned, though he’s still holding Crutchie’s hand, and Crutchie can feel him shaking.

When the lackeys grab Jack and drag him off the bed, he hits his head on the underside of the top bunk and cries out. His head is bleeding again, and Crutchie can see the stuff running down the back of his brother’s neck. He calls out, tries to reason with Snyder, an admittedly stupid thing to do, and the warden comes forward and slaps him hard across the face. Crutchie reels from the blow, almost falling off the bed before Rusty catches him by the wrist and steadies him. By the time Crutchie’s ears stop ringing and his vision clears, the door has closed and locked again.

When Jack is gone, taken to God-knows-where, Crutchie finally allows himself to cry.


	3. Chapter 3

When Jack comes back, he can’t walk on his own. One of Snyder’s lackeys is dragging the newsie by the arm, and Crutchie cringes to think that Jack’s shoulder is close to popping out of its socket like his own did hours earlier. The lackey drops Jack on the dirty floor and leaves the room, locking the door behind him. Jack doesn’t move, just lies motionless.

When Crutchie tries to get off the bed and to his friend, his knees immediately buckle. An arm wraps around his middle, and Crutchie glances behind him and sees Rusty, who just nods and helps him across the room. He eases Crutchie onto the floor when they reach Jack and sits down, too, already examining Jack’s injuries with more skill than a teenage boy should probably have.

When Crutchie looks at Jack’s face, he sees that his friend’s eyes are closed and swollen, his cheeks blackened with bruises. There’s blood still trickling from a gash on his forehead. Between that and the dried stuff from where Snyder hit him at the square, more of Jack’s face is covered in blood than not.

When Jack opens his eyes and winces at Rusty’s ministrations, Crutchie can’t help but sigh in relief. Jack whispers to Crutchie, asking him how long he was gone, and Crutchie tells him he thinks it was somewhere between two and three hours. Jack’s expression is blank, but Crutchie can see the confusion in his eyes and asks him what’s wrong. Jack doesn’t remember most of the beating. All he remembers is being dragged into a room that wasn’t Snyder’s office, a room he had actually never seen before, a room with a drain in the middle that was brown with something he hadn’t been sure was rust. Jack admits he blacked out after the first few blows, and the way his voice shakes tells Crutchie that he is not okay.

When Rusty finishes examining Jack, he tells Crutchie that the other newsie has at least a few broken ribs and definitely three broken fingers. The rest of his body is sound, but his skin is covered in bruises and contusions, and he might have a concussion. Jack grimaces and mentions that Snyder stomped on them, and Crutchie feels anger boiling inside his gut. Rusty tells him that they need to get Jack to the bed, Snyder or another lackey could come in any second, and sitting in the middle of the floor is asking for trouble. Crutchie tries to stand, but Rusty pushes him back down. He can get Jack, he says, and then he’ll help Crutchie.

When Rusty wraps his arms around Jack and pulls, Jack gasps in pain. He manages to get his feet underneath him, and Rusty adjusts him until Jack’s arm is draped over his shoulders. They stumble together to the other side of the room, and Rusty lowers Jack next to the sickly kid who hasn’t left the bed since the two newsies arrived. He’s asleep and doesn’t wake up when Jack settles onto the mattress. 

When Crutchie tries to stand again, he has nearly succeeded before Rusty gets back to him. Rusty rolls his eyes, pulls Crutchie up, and comments on how stubborn he is, to which the latter only smirks. Stubbornness is what Crutchie’s known for, Jack comments from his spot on the mattress. Rusty’s version of a laugh is apparently a vague, kind of far away sort of smile, but it’s the first hint of happiness (or at least amusement, since it’s pretty difficult to be truly happy in the Refuge) Crutchie has seen from him in the short time they have known each other, and it makes him smile, too.

When there is suddenly a knock on the window, it startles all three of them. Crutchie looks and is delighted to see Specs on the other side of the glass. He taps Jack on the shoulder and points, and Jack smiles when he sees their friend. He tries to get off the bed but doesn’t get far before Rusty shakes his head and says that he’ll go see what Specs wants, and stupid kids shouldn’t keep trying to move around when they’re already so busted up. Jack sulks, grumbling something about probably being older than Rusty anyway, but doesn’t try to get up again. Rusty approaches the window and fiddles with the lock for a few moments. Crutchie is impressed at how fast Rusty picks the lock–about as fast as Jack–and he says so to the other newsie, who scoffs but also looks mildly impressed. A few more seconds and Rusty has the window open, and he and Specs begin whispering to each other.

When Rusty and Specs finish their conversation a few minutes later, Specs gives Crutchie and Jack a sad smile before disappearing from the window. Rusty closes it, making sure to lock it back, and returns to the bed. He tells Crutchie and Jack about the plan Specs and the other newsies have - a rally thought up by some kid named Danny or something…Davey, Jack corrects him with a grin. Davey is going to Pulitzer’s office to talk to him, to convince him to speak at the rally. Jack and Crutchie exchange worried glances; Pulitzer isn’t exactly known for being accommodating to the newsies’ wishes, and Davey may be good with words, but he could be getting in over his head. They just hope he knows what he’s doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr: @poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow  
> find me on twitter: @its_spinning

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: @poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow  
> find me on twitter: @its_spinning


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